


honey & smoke (love me fast and love me slow)

by stranded_star



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/F, cute n happy lesbians, cw: brief mentions of canonical abuse, cw: smoking pot, falling in love in the summertime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 16:52:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14109816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stranded_star/pseuds/stranded_star
Summary: Max falls in love with her in the middle of summer, 1988, when the days are long and blue and hazy and everything smells sweet.





	honey & smoke (love me fast and love me slow)

**Author's Note:**

> Jane and Max falling in love with each other when they're 17-18 or in their early 20s IS canon and no one can convince me otherwise. I hope you enjoy my humble offering to this beautiful ship. 
> 
> Note: This is inspired by Tracy Chapman's song "Fast Car," which came out in 1988. I encourage all to listen to this iconic lesbian anthem.

Max falls in love with her in the middle of summer, 1988, when the days are long and blue and hazy and everything smells sweet. She doesn’t remember the moment, exactly, when it happens, but she remembers how it felt: the way Jane’s slim, tanned arm brushed lazily against her own every time they shifted in the grass, the way the blunt they shared burned the tips of her fingers, the way Jane smelled like smoke, but the smoke of a campfire, rich and low and heady. 

They come to the river nearly every afternoon of the summer, getting high and listening to Jane’s boom box, which Hop gave her when she was fifteen. Max remembers Jane’s squeal of excitement and the way she clutched Max’s arm, dragging her into her room to listen to Jane’s tapes, an extensive collection of really whatever Jane could get her hands on. She remembers staring, captivated by the loose curls at her neck, the glitter of light in her large brown eyes. Jane kept her hair short after it all ended, blunt curls pushed back carefully with gel, her rough around the edges style matching her clothing, which she curated that summer before she got to go high school with the rest of them. Max likes to think she had something to do with Jane’s distinctive look, as she glared daggers at any of the boys who pulled out dresses or tights or cardigans as they had when Jane was a frightened 12 year old, replacing their selections with flannels and faded tee shirts and ripped denim. 

Even if she helped her a little, Max knows it was Jane’s love for Kali that shaped her, that let her be _Jane_ , the most fiercely human person she’d ever known. Jane was so _much_ : Max felt entirely caught up in her orbit, and really, it felt inevitable to tumble into Jane’s irresistible pull. In the summer light, she falls in love with all of her, her body glowing with it: her quiet voice and gentle touch, the delicate slope of her nose and mouth, the slip of ankle between her rolled up jeans and beat up Converse – and her mystery and ache, the shared understanding of trauma threading them together. Her love for eyeliner and weed, her fierce loyalty to their friends, even her annoying patience for Mike, who really is the worst of the party, in Max’s opinion, and _no_ , she really isn’t saying that because he got to date Jane for one agonizing year – 

She falls in love with Jane because she is all the words in Max’s mouth and still entirely ineffable. Max can’t imagine ever tiring of her, and she’d take this over a real girlfriend any day, just laying near Jane and breathing her in. Lucas might be her best friend, and Will might be her confidant, but Jane is the center of her universe, and even this, these stolen private moments, are enough. 

Jane huffs a breath of excitement as her current favorite song comes on, her fingers finding Max’s hand and squeezing gently. 

“I _love_ this song,” she sighs, and Max nods dizzily in agreement, her head turned to take in Jane’s profile, eyes closed as she smiles dreamily. Tracy Chapman’s honey-rich voice fills the air and Max breathes, because she thinks that the singer might actually know this hot glowing feeling in her chest, that steals her breath and makes her want things that girls aren’t supposed to want, or at least girls like her with girls like Jane. 

Jane rolls over to face her. Her lovely face is open and sunny, and her hand reaches out to catch runaway scarlet curls and tuck them behind Max’s ear. Max realizes, with a sudden ache, how close they are to one another: she can see the feather-like shadows of Jane’s eyelashes on her cheeks and the flecks of gold in her wide eyes. 

“This song reminds me of you,” Jane says quietly, her earnest gaze impossible to escape. 

“I – “ Max can never find the right words, for Jane, but the other girl doesn’t seem to notice, the calloused pads of her fingers dropping down to brush the freckled skin of Max’s jaw. 

“You know I never hated you, right?” Jane’s eyebrows are drawn in worry. “I don’t think I ever really told you, or apologized. But I didn’t, ever. I just saw you and didn’t know what it meant, to see someone and feel the way I did, about you. I didn’t have the words for it.” 

“Jane,” she starts, and then bites her lip, because her heart feels impossibly loud and shaky – she doesn’t know how to say that yes, _she knows_ , the way it feels to see someone larger than life, and realize, for the first time, that the universe could exist entirely in a girl. That life could be more than angry screams and bruises from a man’s hands, or even fumbling cold kisses and the sweaty grip of a too-big palm. She feels Jane’s warmth, and _wants_ , so desperately it hurts. 

Jane’s eyes trap her in their shining light. “You are so beautiful, Max,” she says seriously, and Max’s traitor heart beats hot and quick like a hummingbird’s wings; her shaky hands find the front of Jane’s ratty jacket, hoping her helpless tug says all the words she cannot find, their noses sloping against each other, as Jane’s eyelashes brush her cheek and Max closes her eyes, and – 

Jane’s mouth is warm, and gentle, and she tastes of honey and smoke, parting Max’s shaking electric lips – 

And she is falling into her, gracelessly, the music and sunlight and summer grass smell fading as her senses are filled entirely with Jane. Her world tilts on its axis, and every aching part of her body clicks into place. 

Later, when they’ve driven back to Jane’s place, their fingers fastened together, Hop glances at them and rolls his eyes, before he shouts after them to “keep that door open, kid!” Even though Max blushes furiously, and Jane shrugs, unfazed, she feels that dizzying, breathless thing in her ribs glow and expand, like the sun over the river on each endless summer afternoon they’ve shared. 

And when she’s curled around Jane, nose pressed into her loose clean curls, the steady breath of her sleeping lungs anchoring her to the familiar bed, this familiar body, the shift feels like the most natural thing in the world. 

_I love you, Jane Hopper._

The words crowd her throat, filling her lungs with their magnitude. She swallows them down, but they rest in her ribs, until, exactly one month and eighteen days later, when Jane is blowing smoke to the starry sky as they sit, hand and hand, on the hood of Max’s beat up car, she blurts them out. 

She’ll never forget the way Jane’s smile curves softly up, her gentle exhale or the kiss she presses to Max’s lips – but it’s the three words she whispers back that blaze into her too-full heart. 

Maybe she lied, then, when she said she couldn’t remember the exact moment she fell in love with Jane, because she’s been falling in love with her, moment after moment, day after day, since her scared blue eyes met defiant brown ones, and the world stopped and she felt, she _knew_ , what it was like to see her soul reflected back. 

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> In my little universe, my headcanon is that Max has always slept over at Jane's a lot during the summer especially, because her home life is shitty and Hop gets it and doesn't force her to go back and knows they take a lot of comfort in being close to each other, idk. He's chilled out a lot since season 2 basically, because Joyce is a Good Parental Influence. 
> 
> I wanted to take a moment to recognize how much gaps42 and Constellations have influenced how I think about these characters and their connection to each other. I am truly stunned by how beautifully written and wonderfully characterized Max and Jane are, and honestly now I basically consider Constellations canon, yay 4 lesbians! :)


End file.
